


I want to fucking tear you apart

by forgetful01



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Guro, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-30
Updated: 2013-06-30
Packaged: 2017-12-16 16:45:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/864294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetful01/pseuds/forgetful01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>gamdave guro for my lovely waifu fiyhi based on this wonderful picture http://fiyhi.tumblr.com/post/53127682379</p><p> ahahaha IVE NEVER WRITTEN GURO BEFORE I HOPE THIS IS OKAY<br/>tags for nsfw, guro, blood, intestines,  bulges in intestines, blackrom, masochism and yeahhhh i think thats it<br/>lotsa tags omfg<br/>okay lets do this</p>
            </blockquote>





	I want to fucking tear you apart

You two had talked about it beforehand, maybe a week or so ago. Dave's interest had undeniably been piqued when you mentioned you couldn't die. You noticed the tenseness in his smirk, the corner becoming strained as he fought to compose himself. It was obvious he wasn't going to make the first move so you shoved him to the floor by his throat, biting hard enough into his shoulder to draw blood. He hisses and writhes under you for a moment before his fist connects with your nose, knocking you back. You can feel blood already dripping from your nose to your top lip and you lick it away, smearing the paint further.

He's on you in an instant and a sword is pulled from his sylladex, holding it to your throat. You flash him a cocky smirk, and he presses it down further, the blade nicking at your skin a bit. You could already feel your primal instincts kicking in, that being heavily induced by masochism, and he sets the sword aside for now, raising his hands to your horns. They each grasp one and push in opposite directions, straining, straining, until there's a loud crack and you feel a sharp burning pain in the core of your right horn. He retracts his hand, holding the broken off horn in his hand and licks up some of the blood before tossing it to the side as well.

Pain is wracking your body, sharp and lingering, and you couldn't hope to muffle the moan that sounded if you even wanted to try. It's unbelievable, but your bulge is already slipping free of its sheath, pressing itself against the inside of your loosely fitting pants, and Dave has the mother fuckin' nerve to ignore it. Instead he sits back and pulls you by your damaged horn to sit you up as well, forcing you onto your knees. He orders you to remove your pants and you do so, your bulge now free and wiggling in the air and you hiss at him to fucking touch you already, which he ignores with a sweet kiss, the kind he knows you hate. 

Another order, this time for you to lift your shirt and you do so, exposing your pale, unpainted stomach. He traces the tip of the sharpened sword over the defenseless skin, making you arch your back in the slightest way. You let the softest whimper past your lips as he locks his eyes on yours, making you feel floored and cemented to the spot you're in, before you feel the blade pierce skin.

A long trail down your stomach and there's blood on the blade when he pulls it back, congregating between your legs. Your bulge seems to sense the heat and fluid escaping from the wound and it raises itself up, slipping between the slits of the cut. You can feel it messing about inside you, and even Dave gives a soft moan at that, slipping his fingers in on either side of your bulge, pulling hard to split the wound further. You gasp out and give a high keen at the pain as intestines drop onto the floor, displaying you further and giving your bulge more room to roam. You cannot hope to stop it as it picks up a pace, fucking itself into your open stomach, and Dave watches with rapt attention.

He sits back once more, leaving you to your devices and when he returns into view he has a camera in his hand. Your eyes drop as he takes picture after picture, forever committing this moment to digital memory, and if it weren't for the paint still on your cheeks the bright flush could be fully witnessed. Your bulge is still doing what it does best, thrusting and curling about your intestines, pulling them out further to settle in the blood between your open legs and you moan and shiver with each movement. And as it continues on and you brave a glance in Dave's revealed eyes, you both know who won this round. And it certainly wasn't you.


End file.
